


The Sound of Contentment

by remnantmachine



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Bluestreak as a badass, Casual Violence, Drabble, Gift Fic, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-14
Updated: 2012-09-14
Packaged: 2017-11-14 05:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/511580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remnantmachine/pseuds/remnantmachine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unexpected relationship, based on selfish things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sound of Contentment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eerian_sadow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eerian_sadow/gifts).



> read over by the ever wonderful wicked3659 after a rush type job; bless her. any mistakes left with grammar or readability are totally my own fault.

There was purity to their relationship that most mechs wouldn't understand. Once you got past the fact they were on different sides of the war, served different masters, believed in different ideals, and were pretty much unsuited for one another in the ways most seemed to care about, it became blindingly obvious.

Soundwave, most successful telepath of his side, longed for the simplicity of a relationship where the other side wasn't constantly worrying about what the large mech was thinking about what they were thinking.

Bluestreak, half-glitched terrorist attack survivor with a problem shutting up, just wanted someone to stay around and listen to him.

Their every meeting was a dance of push and pull; trying to find information the old fashioned way involving asking since both were capable of blocking the other's common methods of interrogation. Soundwave was harder to read than a vacuum when he felt like it, and Bluestreak's thought processes were too fast and chaotic for Soundwave to retrieve any data from.

Currently both were tangled together on a too-small cot, relishing the contact each so rarely got.

Bluestreak traced absent patterns on the glass of Soundwave's chest. The slight ringing sound was almost hypnotic and calmed the Praxian. He could just pick out the forms of the cassettes on his long range scanners - patrolling. The need to fill the silence with comments and questions was negligible. He sighed contentedly.

"Bluestreak: content?"

Bluestreak smiled into the glass, knowing Soundwave would be able to tell from the waveform of his thoughts that he was smiling even if the Con couldn't actually pick out what he was thinking. "Quite content, yes. Enough so, that small blaster you have digging into my hip is starting to be annoying." A twisting of his neck had him gazing into what he thought was an amused red visor. "You know that won't have any effect on me. If you really thought it did, you wouldn't have it out and I wouldn't have noticed it. Since I did, put it away so that Ratchet won't take after me for denting something in my hip plating again."

He definitely didn't imagine the amused flicker of Soundwave's optics that time. "Assessment: correct."

Bluestreak hummed and fanned his doorwings outwards. They cast long shadows along the frame under him. "Yes, I thought so too." Requisite prodding and posturing complete for the moment, Bluestreak smiled.

He stilled as he continued to gaze upwards at the large blue mech. There was a shifting at the edge of his processing threads and Bluestreak frowned. "Really?" Without waiting for a reply, Bluestreak started an angry babble at his sometimes lover. "You really wanna start this too? We've been over this. A million times. You can't hack me. If you could we wouldn't be here and I'd be back at base talking to squirrels and you’d be back at your base doing something ridiculous in the name of evil. Probably building evil pink robot squirrels to see if you can spy on me since you know for a fragging fact this does nothing besides piss me off." The buzzing continued unrelentingly, pushing against the edge of Bluestreak's thoughts. "And you should be fully aware of the dangers of pissing off mechs with big guns. You're the sidelines to almost every Starscream/Megatron fight, and I bet you spy on the rest of them through their memory cores when you catch them in the hallways. 

"You're such a voyeur, Soundwave. Is that really what you want? To sneak into me and plant a spy so you can watch me all the time? Would you catalogue everything about me for your own sick amusement?" A self-depreciating laugh escaped as Bluestreak calmly charged the weapons on his shoulders. "Or is what you're really after the moment when I shove my gun barrels down your intake valve and wait for you to choke on your own suffocating ideals?" One light gray hand, dyed near black in the fading light of Earth's sun reached up to grasp at Soundwave's collar in the start of a choke hold. "Give me one fucking reason," he spat, cursing with Earth slang for the bitter taste it left. "Keep pushing like this and I will blow your head off."

They locked optics.

After several intake cycles the pressure finally let up around Bluestreak's head. The sniper calmly shifted to pull the warm barrel ends of his guns off the edge of Soundwave's mask. The sharp edge had melted slightly. It looked obscene. Bluestreak smiled. "Glad we figured that out. Again."

Soundwaved hummed - a sound that resonated throughout his entire specially tuned frame and passed directly into Bluestreak. "Repeat: necessary."

Bluestreak quirked an optic ridge and wiggled around on his perch, waiting for his guns to fully cool before laying back down. "That so?"

"Necessary," Soundwave repeated. "Bluestreak: guard lowered."

Just as he was getting ready to snap back a reply, Bluestreak felt something buzz. Not his thoughts this time, but somewhere decidedly lower. "Oh. That wasn't your standard blaster was it?" A wicked grin spread across Bluestreak's face as he squirmed wantonly across the broad expanse of Soundwave's chest.

This relationship was not what most would consider normal or healthy, but to the two mechs involved, it was a slice of desperate reprieve. A time of silly playfulness, boasted violence both knew would never come to a head, and some fragging awesome interfacing.


End file.
